Missing In Action
by FluffyLemonn
Summary: Miroku's getting some weird calls- calls that lead him to missing people. The only one he can't find, though, is the frantic girl who tells him where to go. Is it possible to love someone you've never seen- someone who might not be real? (HIATUS)


Disclaimer: I don't even own my own _email_. -le pout-

Hello! Sorry for the random "Lalala... look at me... I don't know what updating is!!" See, I've been banned from the internet. I would've updated STOF or DLT, but... I dunno. I needed a rant. And I just read an awesome book. So, here is a new story. It'll be updated next... ... ... I dunno. No promises.

I don't know if I'll keep it. I really wanted to continue Memories, but people didn't seem to like it IMMENSLEY, so I'll try my hand at my favorite couple, Miroku x Sango. If people don't like this... well, that sucks. I really like this.

I'll update STOF when I can. And DLT.

25 reviews to continue, blah blah blah. (Maybe that should apply to STOF and DLT, too... yeah, sure. Why not?)

Enjoy!!

-.-

Listen... please... but don't speak.

Not a word, do you understand?

I'll lose my mind if I hear your voice.

Ok, here we go;

I know where they are.

All of them.

I don't know how, or why, but I do.

I know where they all are.

And if you listen, you can help me find them.

Do you have something to write this down with?

Good.

Because I'm only going to say it once.

-.-

Beep, beep, beep, beep!

"Oi, monk! Get up! It's time for class!" Someone shouted loudly above the piercing rock music and alarms that seemed to reign superior over the dorms. Sheets twisted and the girl laying next to the man groaned lightly. Eyeliner-smudged crystal blue eyes met his darker indigo, and she smiled.

"On the table?" She questioned, not flinching at their rather apparent state of undress. The man smirked jovially, and nodded.

"Where else? It was... pleasant... doing business with you, Cass. As usual," he added. The girl laughed quietly, smiling her agreement as she pulled on a gossamer bra and shirt, followed by quite useless underwear and hip-hugging jeans. Snatching up the large amount of paper yen on the aforementioned table, she sauntered out of the room with a last blown kiss and wink to her customer. The man stretched leisurely on his bed, groaning with slight pain and then letting out a contended sigh as he gently eased back into the pre-made nest on his mattress. Surrounded by soft sheets and a plush comforter, his mind quickly returned to a muddled and inept state. He was sinking back into REM by the time someone thought to give him a second wakeup call.

"OI!! MONK!! GIT YER ASS OUTTA BED!!" Starting awake once again, the 'monk' twitched heavily and fell out of his warm bed whilst knocking several objects to the floor along with his body. Swearing loudly as he noticed the near-decimated alarm clock, he searched messy college-aged drawers for clean pants and an equally decent shirt. Finding worn jeans and a dark button-up, he threw on the collection of clothes (that, thankfully, _did_ include boxers and an undershirt) and stuffed unfinished homework in his bag.

Flying out the door, he ruffled his breathing alarm clock's black hair and dodged the inevitable punch as he slid down the worn banister and popped out the door in record time. Swearing louder than he had over the alarm clock when he realized that no shower had been involved in that morning's flurry of activities, he bolted back to his apartment to clean up a bit more.

The results?

Wet hair. Bad.

Great body that smelled clean. Good.

Late for class. Bad.

...Great body that smelled clean- and attracted the ladies.

Very, very good.

-.-

"_NO!_" A girl, surrounded by sweat-dampened sheets, jolted awake. Pushing her mussed hair behind her ear with a shaking hand, she attempted to piece together where she was. Not able to remember, she slide out of her wet covers and walked over to the one of the sparse bits of furniture in the room; a mirror. She frowned unhappily as her eyes seemingly blurred over and refused to let her see her reflection. Blinking didn't help, and neither did a bit of self-smacking. Frowning again, she shrugged it off and climbed back to her bed, disgustedly shoving the covers away from her body. Holding her trembling knees to her by wrapping her arms around them, she tried to drive away the tears in her eyes. Disobedient, they fell, despite her best efforts to rein them in. Beginning to cry wildly as names, dates, places, and deaths whirled about her mind, her body began to jerk and twitch with spasms. She was so distraught that she didn't notice a nurse slip in and puncture her hip with a needle.

"There you go, kid. Yeah, I know it hurts. Shut up for a second, would you!? It's for the best, you know," the nurse whispered. The girl fell slack, her muscles stilling, her thin arms slowly unwrapping from her likewise slender legs. Her breathing began to drop off until each breath was painfully taken. Indeed, it slowed to the point that the nurse was on the verge of checking her pulse. As though to spite the somewhat worried nurse, a large figure appeared in the door way.

"Leave her be, Kagura. It doesn't matter if she stops breathing or not." A smile stretched across the doctor's face as the nurse's own scrunched up in irritation. Turning her violently scarlet eyes back to the patient as the doctor left them, she placed the drugged girl in a more comfortable position.

"I'll... I'll go get you some new sheets," she said uncertainly to the unconscious girl, backing out of the room and forgetting that a bow wouldn't be seen. Shutting the door and locking it, she snorted at her own weakness.

"Gods, I hate this job... Kagura the Weak, they'll call me..." She muttered as she headed towards the lab's laundry room.

-.-

"So you see, Sakaki-san..." Our handsome boy with slightly damp hair spoke evenly to his professor, whose disbelieving face was filled with amusement. "Promoting sexual activity in college students is _good_- we're more relaxed, we feel better about ourselves, and, hells, who doesn't like sex?" Applause began reverberating around the room as the boy's fellow classmates (mostly men) agreed with him. "Why, prof, just this morning I woke up to the most _lovely_ set of-"

"Thank you, Koi-san, thank you... But I'm afraid even a spur-of-the-moment five minute speech will not get you out of class early. Would everyone open their books to page 737, please? Let's discuss problem number 52, the body's nerves. We're capable of-"

274, Larkspur.

"What?" Miroku jumped in his desk, surprised by the frightened woman's voice. "Who said that?" Everyone shifted uncomfortably as the usually easygoing student's eyes began to hurry about the room.

"Koi-san? Is there a problem?"

"Who said 2...274, Larkspur?" Looking around the class, the boy's eyes met nothing but confused students. "Who said it!? I know I heard someone say... 274..." Someone snorted from the back.

"Oi, Miroku... you sure that hooker didn't hurt you?" The boy whipped around to meet purple-brown eyes and sneered.

"Shove it, Inuyasha. At least I'm _getting_ action." The class could barely start catcalls and murmurs of 'fight, fight' before the professor stepped in.

"Boys. Boys!" The man yelled temperamentally, effectively shutting up the class. Miroku slouched in his seat, mind whirring. He was _sure_ he'd heard a panicked voice- he knew he wasn't imagining things.

...Was he?

-.-

"Ugh..." Miroku threw his disgustingly large load of homework over his shoulder. Pausing briefly until he heard a loud 'thunk' and the sounded of his laundry basket slamming shut, he grinned. "Only place it deserves to go... right along with my dirty socks." He chose to overlook the fact that he'd have to dig it out eventually, telling himself it just wasn't worth the anxiety, and set about making himself some stew. Throwing random things like vegetables and beef into a pot and setting it to a simmer, he grabbed his phone. His fingers dialing a all-too familiar number, he started tapping his foot impatiently.

"Mm... hello?" A feminine voice said, uttering a keening sound as she struggled to give her caller some attention. "What do you want?"

"Sorry if I'm calling you at a bad time, Cass..." Miroku said easily, knowing full well she had a daily appointment at this exact time. "But I was wondering if you'd pay me a quick 2-hour visit tonight. If you're free, naturally." The girl laughed, her voice low.

"Sorry, babe. I'm busy. Maybe in a couple days?" Miroku pouted.

"C'mon, Cass. Can't you pull a few strings?" He whined, picking at the prayer beads wrapped around his right wrist. The girl on the other end of the phone line sighed.

"Oh, I'll pull a few strings. But they aren't going to be yours."

With that, the phone went dead.

Miroku sighed. She could be so damn finicky, that Cass. If she wasn't so good, Miroku would never have called her. Shrugging dejectedly, he walked over to his cooking supper with the phone still in his hand. Stirring it thoughtfully and adding a bit of secret ingredients (ok, pepper and salt... but the girls always fell for it), he was about to set the phone down on it's charger when it rang in his hand. Jumping as though he'd touched a live wire, Miroku took a second to calm his racing heart before looking down at the ringing bomb.

Huh... that's weird... "Unidentifiable"... Not even a number on the ID.

Shrugging and taking it for some sort of miscommunication on the phone's part, he jabbed the 'Talk' button quickly and held the receiver up to his pierced ear.

"Moushi moushi... Miroku's residence," he said, trying to sound bored.

"Please," a girl's voice begged from the other end. "You've got to help me!" Miroku stared at the phone for a second. Whatever or whomever he had been expecting, this wasn't it. Putting the phone carefully back up to his ear, his spoke slowly to the unknown girl.

"Miss? Are you alright?"

"Please, you've got to listen to me!" If possible, the girl got more frantic. Miroku looked anxiously about the room for help, the fact that he was alone in the room escaping his scattered brain.

"Miss, I- Listen. Just calm down. Who are you?"

"I don't have time. You've got to help- _please_!" Miroku was about to get angry before-

"_274 Larkspur!_" The girl whispered, her voice strained from crying.

The connection ended, leaving Miroku blanched and trembling.

_-.-_

Owari? You decide. Yup, it's a mystery...thing, something I haven't written before. Wonderfulness... not.

Review, babe. If you do, I'll assign all those of female sexual orientation a 15 minute makeout session with Miroku. Those of male? 15 minutes with... Sango?

-Sango kicks Sango 2.0's ass-

-FL

(OI! REVIEW!!!)


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